


Forbidden or Just Misunderstood?

by ClarkeGriffinTitties



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e11 The Dark Year, F/M, Feelings Realization, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pining, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:37:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarkeGriffinTitties/pseuds/ClarkeGriffinTitties
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: Can you write about the 5x11 echo/clarke convo with echo being all "you love him."





	Forbidden or Just Misunderstood?

Clarke smudged the freshly drawn line with the corner of her thumb, smoothing out the curls of his hair. Amazing how some things changed so much, and others so little in six years time. What used to be a wild mop of brown atop his head with a mind of its own, now more tame, soft around the edges; The sharp jut of his jaw, currently hidden by a strong patch of stubble. Even his shoulders seemed more rounded; Full.

She wasn’t used to this Bellamy. She had grown so accustomed to the exact curves of his features that her hand practically willed itself to his form. She memorized the exact weight of the charcoal in her hands, the way it danced across the page, creating a symphony of bends and turns. When Madi was asleep and Clarke found herself accompanied with only the wrinkled folds of her sketchbook, her fingertips naturally found his rhythm. With her eyes closed, his face crisp on her mind, she drew her applause, perfectly contouring the black soot to his divine figure.

Now, with this new Bellamy before her, she had to start from scratch. There were the obvious differences that came with age and six years of separation, but also a recognizable shift in his being. His eyes were older, scarred from the hurdles they faced in order to survive in space. He carried himself tall, not with pride, but rather knowledge. His voice was softer, retired from the strenuous battle cries and pleas for mercy. He was peace.

She sat outside what used to be a gas station, her mother and Madi resting on the other side of the front door. She leaned against the exterior wall; both legs propped up to support the book and the morning casting light across the faded paper. In the wakening hours of the day, Clarke tried to familiarize herself with the changes in his visage, only to be greeted with the angry bellow of frustration. Each mark felt wrong; a violation to his memory; her movements adding up to nothing but another strange face. 

Six years in the making, only to wind up bitter and tragically alone. Funny how life had a way of doing that: taking one of the last good things she had to hold on to, and crushing it under the weight of the stars. Was this the punishment for her sins? Preserve her hope in a miracle for 2,199 days, only for that very blessing to walk back into her life, be everything she had ever dreamed of, yet more far away than ever?

Clarke studied the page before her, two distant but recognizable eyes staring back at her.

“Oh Bellamy.” She exhaled, a shaky cry slipping past her sun burnt lips.

How was it that she managed to feel so close, so connected to a man galaxies away, more so than the man just beyond the trees?

“Why’d you do it?” Echo’s soft voice rang out in the silence of the woods, her silhouette looming in front of the blonde.

Clarke’s head spun, setting her sketchpad down, and looking up at the taller woman.

Taken aback, she whispered, “What-“ clearing her throat. “Why did I do what?”

“Leave him behind?” Echo’s tone was free judgment, rather curiosity.

Anguish swept Clarke’s words from her, instead tears taking their place.

Echo sat down beside Clarke, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning her head against them. She kept her gaze fixed on Clarke before she noticed the book off to the side.

“May I?” she asked, gentle.

Clarke only nodded, resting her head back against the cement of the wall, and searching the sky for her voice.

Echo flipped through the pages, each a delicate portrait of Bellamy, worn by time; A younger version of himself, his hair gelled back, a hardness in his eyes; A bright eyed and cocky man, biting into the flesh of an apple; A desperate face in a sweat stained undershirt, begging for her to stay; The look of heartbreak at her abandonment after Mount Weather; A guy with so much hope in his heart, reasoning he had her to be the head; and a hundred others. She landed on the most recent one, the one Clarke had drafted moments prior.

“He loved you, you know?” Her hand skimmed the textured paper, a sad smile falling upon her face.

Echo looked at Clarke, trying to meet her eyes.

“Loves.” She corrected.

At that, Clarke dared a glance, mustering up the courage to face her head on. Her lip quivered, Echo’s words striking a chord within her. The heaviness of her chest anchored her to the ground as she struggled to hide from the truth. She shook her head, unwilling to believe her ears had not betrayed her again. For so many nights, those exact words taunted her in her dreams. They crept into her mind during her sleep, denying her peace. They kept her up for days, her body restless and refusing to sleep in fear of hearing them again. Instead, she had watched the midnight sky, humming her response into the static of the radio.

“I did it to protect Madi,” Clarke broke. “She’s all I have.” She explained, clutching where her heart used to be, a gaping wound filled with regret replacing it.

Echo scanned Clarke’s expression. Upon doing so, she found her answer.

“You love him, too.” It wasn’t a question.

Clarke did not respond, bowing her head in shame. He was not hers to love.

Echo laid a hesitant hand on Clarke’s shoulder, squeezing it in understanding and returning her sketchpad before rising to her feet.

“It’d be hard not to.” A stray tear cascaded down Echo’s cheek as she left Clarke to herself.

The quiet of the woods closed around Clarke, releasing her shudders. A silent cry shook her to the core as she rocked in place, frantically gasping to catch her breath. Her guilt pooled against the page, blurring the drawn man. With every tear shed, the face became more distorted, blending and twisting his features until he was just another face in the crowd; just another reminder of how lost she truly was.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!
> 
> I hope this isn’t completely ooc for Echo. I’d like to think she will be understanding of their love for one another! It was clear to her that Bellamy loved Clarke before Praimfaya, and still does now. Hopefully, she isn't too bitter in canon.
> 
> @clarkegriffintitties on tumblr, send me prompts!


End file.
